In Terms of Sound
by Born Again Liar
Summary: My life is determined by whether or not my eardrums catch vibrations in a way that allows me to understand where I am, who's around me, and whether or not I can find my way around. I know that I have my family, but it almost never enough. They can't and couldn't give me back my sight. But Gazzy and Nudge. They come the closest. [Related to Alphabet]


My life is determined by whether or not my eardrums catch vibrations in a way that allows me to understand where I am, who's around me, and whether or not I can find my way around. I know that I have my family, but it almost never enough. They can't and couldn't give me back my sight. But Gazzy and Nudge. They come the closest.

I love them both, Gazzy with his vague but surprisingly detailed descriptions of all his favorite explosions. He might actually be the most innocent one out of all of us. I can hear his voice come alive when he sees something he likes. The way his voice gets slightly higher when he has to ask me or Nudge for something. And sometimes when I walk past his room at night, I can hear the quiet whisper when he's praying that his sister is safe. We don't talk about Angel anymore. I wonder if he wants to, but Nudge is better for that then me, so I keep walking.

Gazzy is smart in his own ways, he describes things for me in terms of sound. _The blast was bright enough that Nudge's chattering seems dull_. And I know what that means. I know he wishes I could see so he could just enjoy his games. I remember that it's my fault that he left, and I try not to ask anymore. Gazzy is kind enough to tell me anyways. He manages to see me as an actual person, and that's why I asked him to come with me. I wish I could let him be 14.

Nudge's descriptions though. Nudge tells me everything. She will describe a person down to the slightly darker freckle over their left eye. She tells me what I look like every morning. I wish she could understand what that meant to me.

I know that I'm lucky. I know what all the colors are, at least the ones that matter. They get fuzzier every time I think about them though. Sure, I can feel them, but it's not the same. And I can't even be sure that that's what they are anymore. I want to be able to see again. But I won't, and that's okay too.

Nudge basically got me into college, education major, and I liked it well enough. It gave me something to do, and for the first time in a while, I felt like I could help someone. It still felt strange. People were still watching me. The blind ed majors sought me out for answers about anything and everything. But I didn't mind you know? Because they wanted to know about me. Not my wings, not Max, just me. And how I survived being blind.

But they all thought I needed rescuing. There was a girl named Sammy, who Nudge tells me had blonde hair that was much finer than silk and skin that was paler than milk, almost see through, with green eyes with brown centers, who was much shorter than Nudge, but only a little shorter than me. And Gazzy told me that she was like when you fill the bath but you turn the shower on too, and you get that kind of hollow but wet splashing sound. Gazzy told me more than Nudge did that time. Sammy kept coming over to help with dinner and cleaning, and every time she was surprised when I offered to help.

I told her to leave us alone one time and she hasn't spoken to me in class since. Part of me is glad. Cooking is one thing I can do around the house, no one is allowed to take that from me except Nudge when she feels like it.

The other two make me feel so useless, but at the same time, I'm feeling better about myself than I ever did with Max and Fang. Because even though they don't need me, for some reason they look up to me. I can't disappoint them but I don't think they'd let me.

Nudge tells me what I look like everyday. Every morning she makes the choice to be my mirror. She could be lying, but I choose to believe she's not, and I think I am quite handsome with my almost perfectly straight nose, and my freckles that are a little heavier on the right side than the left. But sometimes I think Gazzy is better at describing people than Nudge is. Gazzy has only ever described myself to me once in my life, but it was way more than enough. Gazzy told me that to him, I am the sound glass makes when you sweep it up off the floor. It's clean, but happy. And so am I.

I'm not unhappy. I have Nudge, and Gazzy. But I know that Gazzy wants to leave. And when he does, I won't stop him. He wants his sister back, and that's perfectly fine. I would follow Nudge for the rest of my life if I had to. But lucky me, she wants to stay put.

Nudge reads my papers to me to check them, she gives her own input in every time. I think Nudge might secretly be a genius, I know she knows a lot more than she's telling anybody. She doesn't tell me much anymore, unless she's describing. I think she's scared I'm angry with her. I told her her wings were her choice. She cried for three days when we finished, but she didn't want them back. I get sick thinking about it.

Nudge cried a lot in high school. Those were bad nights, she'd just sit in her room for an hour and when she'd come out, her voice would be congested, pinched and just a little choked. The three of us would sit on the couch and listen to a movie, and just be here. The days after though, those were good days. I got to scare many a teenage boy, and more recently teenaged girls. Usually I take a page out of Fang's book. Children of the Bible Belt have a fear like no other in their hearts for angels. Quality entertainment.

Sometimes Nudge reminds me of Max, but the better parts of her. More importantly, Nudge is the comforter that Max never was. I think Nudge was always that. For everyone. Max would blow through, give everyone a pat on the back and then brood about her problems. Which is all well and good, but Nudge made it better. Nudge was stitches where Max was a band-aid.

And then there's Gazzy. He's distant now, but still just as wonderful. Watching him grow up is weird. When we were with Max he was always the same. She never let him change, like she never let any of us change. And I understand why. If we changed, we might leave. But I don't know that even if I wanted to I could hold Gazzy in place anymore.

He's so _alive_ now. He does more than just bombs these days, even more than weapons in general. Right now he's working on a project to get solar power for his school, sourced from the parking lot. He worked out something with the principal, so he has a build budget and everything. He's got a whole little club going. I know Gazzy could save the world if he put his mind to it. But that's Max's job. This is just how Gazzy makes money, he does stuff like this for all kinds of people.

Gazzy and I are often mistaken for brothers, and for me that's the best moments I can get with him. Not that we don't look alike, but that Gazzy just goes along with it. He'll pretend that I'm his older brother, and he tells the kids at school that too. He's 14, but he tells me he doesn't have time to have a crush on anyone. I agree. Gazzy… Gazzy says he looks like when you first open the a book and the spine starts to crack a little bit.

Nudge tells me about herself often, sometimes she describes herself dully, plainly brown eyes, plain brown hair. Other times she lights up going on and on about how some of her hair curls in one direction, and the hair on top is hawk wings gold and the hair on the bottom is almost black. She giggles about how she's a full inch taller than me and then puts on heels and giggles more. But Gazzy tells me more than she ever will. Gazzy tells me that she looks like the smell when gingerbread is first mixed up, but the feeling of stepping in loose warm sand on the beach, and the sound cars make when they're just barely rolling along.

I am going to miss him. Nights like these remind me of that. Nudge is out with a friend. Or maybe not a friend, I'll let her tell me later if she wants to. Gazzy is out at some rally for clean energy, trying to get the word out about his project. They'll call at 11 if they're going to stay out. They know they have to be home at one. On nights like these I prepare myself.

I stumble around the house, distracted by my own thoughts. I walk into Nudge's room and I sit on her bed, her room is too heavily scented, but I stay there for a few minutes. The heavy but fake scent of roses and the lighter but still fake scent of rain. I love it and hate it at the same time. It makes me think of Angel. I have to leave the room.

Then I trail my way into Gazzy's room-slash-disaster area. I can feel the crushing pressure and overwhelming relief that comes with organized chaos, and I trip over to his bed as well. He's been my partner in quite literal crime since I could see. It hurts to hear Gazzy's voice sometimes. He's just so _explosive_ he reminds me of the flashing lights at the school. It gives me a headache. But I will never be Max, and I will never tell him to be quiet.

You've probably guessed by now that I like listening to people talk. And that's why I think I'm lucky. I will never judge people by how they look. And it's hard to judge people by how they sound. Except people from Texas. That accent, the heavy thick southern drawl, kills me everytime. But I don't tell people to stop talking. But one thing I've realized is that one day… people just do.

My mind wanders easily on nights like these. That much is clear. But like I said. I'm preparing myself on nights like these. When everything is quiet, and for me everything is dark. I'm getting ready for the day where I will be once and for all… Alone.

And on night's like these, when I know they're both happy, it doesn't feel so bad.


End file.
